


Bought and Paid For...

by brandyllyn



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Desk Sex, F/M, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyllyn/pseuds/brandyllyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disgusted by the idea of going to his first public event after the shooting alone - Frederick Chilton decides to hire the services of an escort for the evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Frederick Chilton stood at the top of a small set of museum steps. The open bar behind him thrummed with life and he clutched his bourbon in one hand as he scanned the crowd. The neck of his tuxedo shirt was too tight, he would need to have it re-tailored but there was nothing he could do for it now. He wanted to pull at it but didn’t have a hand free. God, he shouldn’t have done this.

“You want a what?” Ned had asked him when he had called earlier that day.

“I need an escort, for tonight’s Gala. You know the one.”

There was a long pause on the other end and Frederick wondered briefly if the other man was still there. “What kind of escort?”

“Just someone pretty who will hang on my arm tonight and pretend to be my date. Not some street hooker. Someone high-class who can hold a conversation and already has a dress to wear. I’m not going to take her shopping.”

That pause again. Were people moving slower since he got out of the hospital or was he just losing patience?

“I think I know someone, but she’s expensive.”

“Bill me,” he’d snapped, and the rest had been details.

But now, scanning his eyes over the crowd of people, he regretted the impulsive decision. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ned, they’d gone to med school together, but Ned’s taste had always run a little on the, dare he say, trashier side. His eyes lit on a woman who had just entered, blonde in a blue dress just like Ned had told him she would be. Oh god this had been a mistake. She was clearly a hooker, everything about her screamed it from the too bright lipstick to her too tight dress. She looked so out of place he actually felt a little sorry for her. He moved through the crowd as quickly as he could, hoping to cut her off before she could enter.

“Elizabeth,” he called out haltingly and was brought up short by a voice behind him.

He turned to see another blonde in a blue dress, this one a deep navy that covered everything from her neck to her heels, only it’s lack of sleeves keeping it from being puritanical. He would have called it classic if he’d been asked. Her hair was pulled into a chignon at the base of her neck and her makeup was practically demure.

“Dr Chilton?” she asked, moving toward him. He wondered if those were real diamonds sparkling on her ears and if so who had paid for them.

He looked back over his shoulder, the other woman was being greeted by one of the Deans at John Hopkins. Jesus, had he just mistaken a Dean’s wife for a prostitute? Well, if the shoe fit.

He felt a light touch on his arm, “Dr Chilton?”

He turned, looking her levelly in the eye. Ned couldn’t have found someone shorter than him? “Yes,” he replied finally. “You must be Elizabeth.”

She nodded holding her hand out to him before noticing he didn’t have one free. She started to pull back but he switched his bourbon into the hand holding his cane with a practiced gesture and slid his hand into hers.

“This should be an easy night for you,” he told her, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm and moving his bourbon back as he set off into the crowd. “We met two months ago through a mutual friend. Might as well be Edward. You teach, children probably, and we’ve been seeing each other since. Can you remember that?”

She was staring up at him like he’d grown two heads and he stopped, turning back to her abruptly. “I’d have thought Ned would have told you, I need the full ‘girlfriend’ experience tonight so it’s going to take a little more than laughing at my jokes and pretending you think I’m handsome.”

“You are handsome.”

He snorted, patting the hand on his elbow with his own, “That’s very good. Now, do you remember what I said?”

“We met through Edward. I teach kindergarten and we’ve been together a couple of months. It’s honestly not very much to remember Dr Chilton.”

“Frederick,” he corrected.

“Frederick,” she complied as she pursed her lips into a small moue. “Is there anything else you are planning to make up about us? Because someone is crossing this way and they seem very interested in speaking with you.”

His eyes darted up, recognizing one of the Hospital’s Board members. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

“Frederick old boy!” the man shouted as he got in close and held his hand out. The woman on his arm smoothly disentangled herself, taking the glass of bourbon from him so he could return the handshake. “You are looking fit as a fiddle, no air of miasma on you at all! And who is this lovely lady?”

She smiled, tucking her hand into his arm again and leaning against him slightly, for all the world like she wanted to be there. “Elizabeth Bradshaw,” she replied, holding a hand out and smiling graciously as he took it.

“You lucky devil. Survive two attempts on your miserable hide and come out of it swinging!” He laughed at his own joke and Frederick forced himself to smile. They chatted a bit about the Hospital and its own upcoming Gala before the man left him, moving on to other victims.

When he was out of earshot the woman turned to him, “I think maybe there is something important about you that you left out of your first introduction.”

“Oh?” he asked, sipping on his bourbon. She gracefully gathered a glass of champagne from a passing tray and raised her eyebrow at him. “Ned didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head, “All he told me was that I was supposed to come here tonight and meet an interesting doctor.”

He snorted at that, feeling the bourbon sting his nose slightly, “Well, that’s one way to put it I guess. I’m a psychiatrist, and also the Director of the Baltimore State Hospital,” he paused there watching her face, “for the Criminally Insane.” Her expression didn’t change and he filed that away. “Two years ago one of my patients escaped and cut a hole in me big enough to pull half my internal organs out of. Left me for dead although I wasn’t. Took sixteen doctors to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

She didn’t laugh along with him, her fingers tapping on her champagne flute. “That man said _two_ attempts on your hide.”

“My _miserable_ hide,” Frederick cheerfully corrected her. “I was also shot in the face last winter.”

“Another inmate?”

“No, that one was a case of… mistaken identity.”

She contemplated him for a moment, taking a swallow of her drink, “I think maybe you are not a safe man to stand around with.”

His eyebrows lowered over narrowed eyes, “Ah, as near as I can tell it’s only me who gets the short end of these sticks. Shall we?”

She hesitated, but her avarice must have won out and she fitted herself to him again, the perfect girlfriend all smiles for their audience.

 

* * *

 

The night seemed interminable, everyone wanting to shake his hand, tell them how dreadfully sorry they were to hear about his ‘accident’ and oh, had anyone told him. That friend of his, Hannibal Lecter, oh it was just the most dreadful thing. Frederick forced his smile to remain calm, nodding along at the members of Baltimore’s elite who confided, just between them, that they had always known something was a little off with that man.

When the conversation got too dull, or too personal, he turned to Elizabeth who deftly guided them all to safer ground. Talking about imaginary children and recent books.

“And what do you do when you’re not playing nursemaid to dear Frederick here,” one old hag asked her and Frederick felt a sharp retort spring to his lips. Before he could answer she beat him to the punch.

“I like to kill things and display their bodies in my home.”

The old lady recoiled in horror, taking a quick step back from them, and Frederick turned slightly to stare at the woman next to him. She was smiling at the lady and laughed a tinkling little sound before saying,“Oh I’m sorry, that was just a little gardening joke. I forget sometimes people aren’t used to it. I grow flowers.” Everything about her body language spoke of contrition for scaring the old lady but Frederick was certain he saw a hint of glee in her eyes.

Alone again as the hag beat a hasty retreat, he stepped in front of her, raising one eyebrow as she innocently sipped at her second glass of champagne. “That was a bit morbid don’t you think?”

“I don’t know how you stand it,” she turned away to pass the empty flute to a waiter and take a new one. Had he thought her dress was classic? It was downright sinful. He wasn’t sure how he’d gone this far into the evening without noticing but she had apparently left half of it at home. From the small of her back upwards was nothing but smooth, bare skin. He resisted the urge to reach out and draw his hand along it. She turned back and he caught himself staring, jerking his eyes up to her face. She didn’t seem to have noticed, “All of these people, making rude comments about you behind their hands. I don’t even know them and I can see how awful they’re being. How do you stand it?”

He shrugged, “One grows used to it after a while, when you have a job like mine a thick skin is required.” He hesitated, “It didn’t used to be so bad. Before all of the… accidents.”

She stepped closer to him, reaching up with one hand to lay against his cheek before pressing her lips to the edge of his. When he pulled back and raised a questioning eyebrow she just shrugged, “The full girlfriend experience right? Might as well get your money’s worth.”

A small cough interrupted them and she moved to his side as thought nothing had happened. Frederick made a decision then and he tightened his grip on the head of his cane as he hoped she would be amenable.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth was having a wonderful evening (for the most part). Frederick Chilton was handsome and charming (for the most part) and he had a nice sense of humor (for the most part). She was feeling a slight buzz from the champagne and she found herself drawing his arm around her waist when the next couple came up to them to congratulate him on still being alive. He put slightly more weight on her than she was used to, his hand warm on her as his thumb brushed over her bare back. She turned into the embrace a little, for all the world like she wanted to be there - and she did. There was just one problem and she had been studiously avoiding thinking about it all evening.

She wasn’t a hooker.

Oh, she knew that he thought she was - she and Edward were going to have a very long talk about _that_ at some point in the near future. But she wasn’t. Never had been. As far as she knew she was getting set up on a blind date and had actually been looking forward to it a little. She was relatively new in town and didn’t know very many people. The promise of an open bar had intrigued her as well.

And so she had shown up, hoping that the evening wouldn’t be a complete waste, and spotted him crossing the floor towards another woman. He had looked surprised by her and she’d wondered how Ned had described her to him. In retrospect, his surprise was forgivable - she didn’t imagine she looked like, well, whatever he thought a call girl was going to look like.

At least, she hoped she didn’t. Now there was a thought that was going to fester.

He was looking down at her, he’d asked her a question. “I’m sorry, would you mind repeating that?”

His eyebrows snapped together in annoyance, “I asked if you had a coat you needed to retrieve.”

She shook her head, “No, but I left my clutch with them.”

He waited impatiently while she talked to the young lady at coat check and when she had finished he offered her his arm again. She took it, walking beside him into the night.

“May I walk you to your car?”

She shook her head regretfully, nodding towards the waiting line of cabs down the stairs from the museum, “I didn’t drive.” 

“Oh, then may I offer you a ride home?” She hesitated and he quickly filled the silence “Of course not, I’m sure you must keep your work and private life separate.”

She was standing a step below him and she turned to look up into his eyes. “It’s not that.” She shook her head, “There’s something-“

“I would like to retain your services for the evening,” he cut in abruptly.

She blinked, hard. “I beg your pardon?”

He was staring at a spot over her left shoulder, both of his hands resting on the top of his cane. “I can only assume you are not likely to have another client, the hour being what it is - and I am aware that I have only purchased your time for this event. But I would like to extend our contract…” he trailed off before adding, “providing you’re amenable of course.”

“There _really_ is something I should tell you,” she started again and again he cut her off.

“I’m not really interested in hearing your life’s story. You perform services for a fee and I am asking if I might be able to purchase them from you. Everything else is irrelevant.”

She was getting mad at his refusal to listen to her, and if she was being truthful to herself a little turned on. There would be no reason to ever see him again, and it _had_ been a long time since she was last with someone. She picked a number out of thin air, “Two thousand.”

He choked a little, “I myself only charge six an hour in the private sector.”

“Then you can definitely afford me,” she retorted, moving onto the step with him, forcing him backwards slightly as her body pressed against him. They were too close for public approval, she saw a matron in a floor length black gown glare disapprovingly at her even as the woman’s husband looked on enviously. “I am already discounting the fee you’ve paid. I assume to Edward directly?” At his nod she reached up, trailing a hand down his black tie, “Two thousand for the night.”

She thought for a moment he might say no, but he nodded at her quickly, stepping to the side and leading her down to the valet stand.


	3. Chapter 3

Frederick fumbled with the keys at his front door, the warm presence of the woman behind him distracting him. Finally sliding the key home, he hoped this was not prescient of the night to come. He opened the door and stepped aside, inviting her into the large open foyer. She turned in the space, her eyes taking in the details he had paid a decorator thousands of dollars to create. At the time he’d thought it had been worth it but seeing her standing there, bright and practically glowing in the stark white space he began to have doubts.

He had moved since the incident, into another too large house with wide windows and clean fixtures. He was still upset about that, he had loved his old house but he hadn’t been able to get the mental image of the dead FBI agents out of his mind, and no amount of money in the world had gotten the blood out of his aubusson rugs. He’d abandoned it instead, moving slightly closer to work and slightly further away from other people. 

He had also installed a state of the art five step security system which he quickly reset while she was distracted.

He stood at the doorway, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. She set her small clutch on the large glass table and took a couple of steps further into the house, looking back over her shoulder at him as she did so. “Why don’t you give me the tour.”

He showed her the parlor, the living room, his kitchen and the wine cellar. He offered to open a bottle but she demurred, laughingly stating that she didn’t drink while on the job. He remembered her sipping on champagne earlier that evening, her long neck working as she swallowed, but supposed that might be different.

Back on the main floor he hesitated, glancing up the stairwell towards his bedroom before meeting her eyes. What was the protocol here? “The bedroom,” he stopped, his voice had cracked and jesus wasn’t that just lovely, “The master bedroom is upstairs to the left. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable while I handle the business side?”

She gave him a half smile. “Just leave it on the table,” she called down and he watched that long stretch of skin and dress disappear up his stairs. He quickly strode to his study, pulling a box off the shelf and counting out twenty hundred dollar bills. He hesitated, did you tip a prostitute? In for a penny, in for a pound he thought to himself as he added a few more to the pile. He tucked the bills under her clutch, then slowly made his way upstairs. His bedroom door was cracked open and through the gap he could see a pile of blue fabric on his floor. Pushing the door open he stepped inside.

She was standing next to his bed, one foot propped on the low bench across the end as she unbuckled her high heel. The other stood by her bare toes. She was wearing nothing but a pair of black lace knickers and he bit back a groan as he stared at her high breasts and bare skin.

She looked up as he shut the door behind him, smiling softly as she lowered her foot to the floor. Crossing the room, she stopped in front of him, the tips of her nipples dragging softly against the smooth material of his tuxedo jacket. They were hard already and he wondered if she was aroused or just cold. Without her heels on, she was just a couple of inches shorter than him, enough so that he could peer down his nose at her if he wanted to.

“Do you have any special requests?” she asked, reaching up to settle her hands against his shoulders.

He discarded his cane, propping it on the wall behind him and slid his hands around her waist. “Requests?” his mind spun with the possibilities, all of the things he’d never felt comfortable asking for from the staid and respectable girls he had dated in the past.

She laughed, a low husky sound that traveled straight from his ears to his groin. “How about we play it by ear huh?” she pulled his head down to hers, her lips soft against his at first before she slipped her tongue forward and traced along the line of his mouth. He groaned, tightening his grip around her waist and opening his mouth, feeling her tongue slip inside to meet with his. He didn’t think prostitutes kissed, certain he had heard that in a movie some time ago, but he was thankful this one did. She was amazing at it. She nibbled at his lower lip, soothing her tongue across it when he gasped - then covering his mouth with hers and pressing her body against his from neck to navel.

He backed her up to the bed, uncertain how long he could stand while she devoured him with her mouth. When her knees hit the bed she sat, pulling her mouth and hands from him and replacing them at his waist. She pulled his shirt out of his pants roughly as he shrugged out of his dinner jacket, loosening his tie as she unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants to his knees. Reaching inside his briefs, she pulled his dick free and he gasped at the feel of her cool finger on his fevered flesh. She looked up at him through her long lashes and licked her lips lewdly. 

“Do you want me to…?”

“Yes,” he groaned and slid his fingers into hair when she leaned forward and engulfed his dick into her hot mouth in one long draw. 

She sucked on him like she was born to do it and he bitterly regretted the years he had wasted with amateurs, most of whom he could never convince to perform this service for him anyway.  She closed her eyes and moaned as she worked on him, licking her tongue along the head and gently sucking as he bucked into her mouth. He could feel the pressure mounting and he gently petted the side of her head, pulling her head back when she instead sped up on him and he had to jerk away from her to avoid coming right then.

She stared up at him, her lips wet and red and he groaned again. “Lie down,” he told her, jerking his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt to shrug it off. He pulled his undershirt over his head and went to his briefs when he realized her eyes were on his stomach. That damn scar. He’d completely forgotten about it. He looked at her to gauge her reaction but realized that he must have been mistaken. She didn’t look like she’d noticed the scar, instead staring at his hard dick jutting out of his pants.

He toed out of his shoes, kicking his remaining clothing off before joining her across the bed. His hand went to her breast, covering it with his fingers before pulling the hard nipple into his mouth. He sucked on her, hard enough to make her arch her back up and cry out his name. He smiled, running one hand down her body to slip under her lace knickers, pressing his fingers to her pussy as she rocked against him.

She was wet. Her body practically weeping for him and he had only just begun to touch her. Had she been turned on sucking his dick? The thought was arousing and he slipped a finger inside her smoothly as he contemplated what that might mean. Her hands were clutching at his back and as he was feeling gracious he pressed against her with the heel of his hand. It didn’t take long and she came hard and fast, arching against his palm as he smiled a self-satisfied little smirk. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Elizabeth came down he was still stroking her beneath her underwear, his tongue curling around her nipple. He looked up at her from under his thick eyebrows and he looked so pleased with himself that she had to smile, pulling him up to meet her lips. She lifted her hips off the bed as he slid her panties down and his tongue tangled with hers. His dick was hard against her leg and she turned towards him slightly, hooking her thigh over his hip so he slipped between them.

They groaned together as his hardness rubbed against her soft and wet places. He raised himself on his hands above her and she gasped out, “Condom.” 

Frederick stopped, hanging his head as he choked out, “The night table. Over there. A million miles away.”

She laughed, pulling his face down to kiss him again before stroking lightly over the scar on his cheek, “I’ll get it.” She turned over beneath him, crawling towards the side of the bed. When she slid the drawer open she felt his hands cover her ass, smoothing and shaping the flesh. She closed her eyes, blindly fishing for the damn box. She felt him shift his weight behind her, coming to his knees before pulling her up to her hands in knees in front of him. She pulled a condom free, finally, passing it back to him as she looked over her shoulder to watch. 

His face was intense, staring at her exposed pussy as he tore open the packaging. Fitting the rubber over the head of his dick, he rolled it down with one hand while he pressed the other against the small of her back. She leaned forward at the prompting, shifting so her shoulders were against the bedspread and her ass tilted even higher for him. His breathing became harder, whistling through his nose as he pressed the head of his dick into her. Her hands squeezed at the covers next to her head as he slipped in an inch, then out. Then a little further. One of his hands was on her hip, the other still on her back as he slowly worked himself into her.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, pushing back a little on his next thrust so he slid even deeper. Their moans mingled and she did it again, this time feeling him hit all the way home. He stayed there for a moment, long enough for her to wonder if he was okay, and then he began thrusting against her sharply - his hips slapping against hers as their bodies made lewd wet noises against each other.

She cried out, it might have been his name and he sped up for a moment before slowing down, gently easing in and out of her, almost teasing.God, she should have known he’d be like this. They repeated the cycle again until she was squirming beneath him, crying out and pushing back to meet each one of his sharp thrusts. Finally, he reached around her to steady himself on the bed, covering her back with his body as he grunted into her ear and thrust quickly. She reached down, circling her clit and when he came hard and shuddering against her she was only a few seconds behind.

When she was coherent enough to think again she found that they were still on their knees together, him laying across her back as he breathed heavily against her neck. She shifted slightly and he took the hint, rolling to the side and onto his back. He threw one arm over his eyes and she settled back onto her heels, kneeling on the bed and looking down at him beside her.

“You were worth every penny,” he mumbled.

She smiled, a little proud if she was going to be perfectly honest, and reached out to run one hand down his chest, skimming over the harsh red line that bisected him. He jerked against the bed, his eyes flying open. She rested her hand on his hip, ignoring the violent reaction, “Remember, you paid for the night.”

He considered her for a moment before pulling her body down to lie across his.

“So I did.”

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth left him as the sun was coming up, the sheets tangled around his waist as she gathered her dress and shoes. They’d fucked twice more. Once in the bed, thousand thread count sheets billowing around them - and once under the stream of the hot shower as she perched on a little ledge that was such a perfect height that they marveled together and agreed that whomever installed it must have known what it would be used for. It had been fantastic, the best decision she had probably made in years. Although all things considered that was a much greater judgment on her poor decision making skills than on this one being especially great.

She couldn’t find her underwear and rather than search she decided to leave them. He’d probably like that. She called a cab from her mobile downstairs as she slipped back into the evening gown and shoes, gathering up her small clutch. She stared at the stack of bills for a long time before shoving them into the clutch as well.

 


	5. Chapter 5

At his office, Frederick toyed with his mobile phone against his desk, sliding his fingers down it until he reached the bottom before picking it up and repeating the action. The phone flipped, making a soft _thunk_ noise against the leather mat, and he took solace in the repetitive task. He wanted to call her.

That wasn’t true, he corrected himself, he wanted to fuck her. Calling her was the means to an end. 

He had gotten the number from Edward, a short text with a smiling emoji at the end that made him roll his eyes.

_-You’re welcome._ ;)

That had been nearly a week ago and he had resisted the urge to call ever since. He did not need to retain the services of a hooker. He was not that desperate. He continued to tell himself that even as he slid his thumb across the unlock screen and brought up his texting app.

- _Are you free tonight?_

He stared at the message a long time. Sighing, he changed _free_ to _available_ \- no need to use mixed language - and hit send, slipping the phone into his inner jacket pocket and leaning back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desk. After a moment he pulled it back out.

- _This is Frederick._

There. Now he would just wait and see. He drew his laptop to him and dove into the backlog of reports and filings that the interim director had left for him. His hospital - always run with great care and with clockwork precision under his own leadership - had practically fallen to pieces in the incompetent hands of the idiot they had brought in to replace him. It was going to take him weeks to bring the facility back up to snuff.

When he got up to leave that evening it was well past dark and there was still no reply. He told himself it was for the best, he had a plan for how to move on with his life and it did not include having a prostitute on his speed dial. He pulled his phone out as he thumped down the steps in front of the hospital, fingers moving to erase the number. The phone buzzed in his hand.

- _Sorry, I just saw this. Still interested?_

 He typed the - _yes_ before he’d really even thought about it. Standing next to his car as he waited for the reply. The phone buzzed cheerfully in his palm

- _Your place?_

 - _An hour_. He replied, opening the door to the small sports car and sliding in. He turned the key in his ignition and was about to pull away when he felt the buzz again.

- _See you soon._

He shifted the car into gear and settled back into the plush leather seat. He had done an internet search on her the next day of course, he was nothing if not thorough and he liked to know things. However, Elizabeth Bradshaw was a common name and he’d had no luck, the closest he’d come was an announcement at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. But their new curator for photographic art was a pinched face woman who looked seventy years old if she was a day. Bradshaw probably wasn’t the girl’s real name anyway, hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Elizabeth wasn’t her name either.

He arrived at his home with fifteen minutes to spare - lighting the fireplace with the touch of a button and wondering if he should put on music. Would that come across as trying to hard? Jesus, was the fire too much? He shook his head, forcing himself to not care, and put on a jazz album before heading to his cellar. He needed a glass of wine.

He had just gotten the bottle open when his doorbell rang, startling him into dropping the wine key onto the counter. Fuck, he was nervous. He wiped his sweaty palms against his trousers before grabbing his cane and walking to the door.

She was wearing loose black dress pants with a silky looking cream sleeveless blouse tucked into them. Her hair was up in a loose knot at the back of her head and a delicate necklace gleamed at her throat. He had the sudden thought that she could have stepped straight off the pages of any of the numerous catalogues around his house for yachts and European vacations.

“May I come in?” she asked, smiling at him. He stepped aside watching her eyes glance down to the table and at the stack of money as she passed him. She glided towards the crackling fireplace. “This is nice,” she grinned cheekily at him, “romantic.”

Huffing, he crossed behind her back to his wine. “It needs to be run a few times a year or it clogs,” he lied, pouring himself a glass. He took a long gulp before looking at her over the rim. She was staring into the firelight, her arms crossed as she rubbed her thumbs over the bare skin of her arms. He stared at the movement, not even tasting the wine as he took another drink.

Turning her head to him she met his eyes. “Why don’t you come here?”

He walked towards her slowly, barely reacting when she took the wine from his hand and brought it to her lips. She took a small sip before setting it on the mantle. Stepping into his arms she pulled his face to hers and kissed him. She tasted like fruit and brett and a three hundred dollar bottle of wine that he had been saving for a special occasion. 

It was, no pun intended, absolutely intoxicating.

The fabric of her shirt was soft beneath his touch - not just silky but real silk - and he pressed one of his hands against the small of her back as he slipped the other down to cup her ass, pulling her hips against him. She moaned into his mouth and he thought for just a moment that it didn’t sound fake. They stood and kissed for what felt like hours, Frederick feeling the tension that had built up in him over the last week drain away. 

After a time he pulled at her shirt, untucking it so he could slide his hand under and across her smooth skin. She pressed her hands into his hair, sliding her fingernails along his scalp in a move that made him moan low in his throat, pressing his tongue into her mouth and tangling with hers.

Pulling back from him slightly, she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. Her bra was pink, the same color as her lips and he lifted his hand to cup her through it. She pressed forward, her hands sliding beneath his suit jacket to clutch at his shirt. He dipped his hand into her bra, lifting her breast out so he could run his fingers around her nipple. It was the same color as her bra and her lips and he groaned as he imagined her matching the colors to each other on purpose.

His other hand undid the three buttons on her pants and the loose fabric dropped to her feet. He dimly noted that her knickers were the same pink fabric as her bra and her lips and her nipples and he wondered if her pussy would match it as well. 

But her hands, good god her hands were pressing against him through his pants and he couldn’t stop the thrust of his hips into her palm as she squeezed at him. He dipped down, ignoring the twinge in his side that said he was both too old and too broken to be doing this, and pulled her nipple into his mouth. She gasped, closing her hand around him before quickly undoing his belt and zipper and pulling him free.

He sucked on her as she worked her hand on him - and she matched her movements to his. When he swirled his tongue around her she slid her thumb over the head and when he sucked on her hard her hand pumped at him until he saw stars.

“Upstairs?” she gasped out.

He didn’t even lift his head, just continued to lick and suck on her nipples and thrust into her hand. “No, here.” He turned, pressing her against a table, going to lift her before remembering that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he even could anymore. She took the action away from him, thankfully, hopping onto the table and wrapping her legs around his waist. He reached between them, pulling the edge of her knickers to the side and sliding against her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the condom he had grabbed from upstairs, sending a blessing to past-him for being so thoughtful. He rolled it on and then slid into her - all of him in one smooth thrust. She cried out, bracing her hands on the table behind her and arched her back as he moved his hands to her ass to hold her in place as he fucked her.

He looked down between them, watching his dick slide into her - her underwear scraping against the side of him and rubbing against her clit if her sharp gasps were any indication. Her bra was tucked under her breasts and she looked utter wanton. He sped up, holding her to keep her from sliding across the table and she wrapped her arms around his neck, panting against him until she came - shouting his name.

That’s all it took for him and he groaned as he felt his balls tighten, the world went white and he pressed himself against her hard.

He was still wearing all of his clothes. His tie dangling between them to brush against her stomach. It was almost unbearably erotic and he sighed as he pressed his forehead against hers and waited for his breathing to even out. After a long moment he felt her shift against him, whispering into his neck. “Shall I stay?”

He pulled back, lifting her chin up with one hand to meet his eyes as he raised an eyebrow, “I paid for the night didn’t I?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but the hurt expression that crossed her face stopped him. It was gone in a second, replaced with a curving seductive smile and he wondered if he’d even seen it at all.


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth pressed her finger and thumb against the bridge of her nose, sighing as she regarded the young man sitting across from her. He was the son of one of the Museum trustees, an arrogant little prick who wouldn’t know his Adams from his Arbus but wanted to work at the Museum for reasons completely beyond her. She had inherited him from the old curator, Dr Coolidge, who had warned Elizabeth as she packed up her things “Watch out for that Jefferson kid.”

She wished she had asked further questions, but the cryptic remark had pulled her up short and by the time she’d thought to get details the office was over-run with well-wishing Museum staff. And Dr Coolidge was gone now - moved to Florida and away from the Baltimore winters that she claimed had settled into her bones.

Across from her, Daniel Jefferson (the Fourth) slouched into the egg-shaped chair that faced her desk. One of his ankles rested on his knee and he made no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that he was staring at her breasts. She resisted the urge to check her buttons, knowing that her black shirt had been tailored to fit her exactly and was done up properly.

“Mr Jefferson,” she said, “are you _absolutely_ certain you wouldn’t rather work with the Antiquities department? Or maybe even Contemporary Art?”

Her day had been downhill from there.

By lunchtime she was ready to throw her black and gold kitten heels at someone. _Someone_ had decided to carry the large crate, recently in from New York, by hand instead of using the forklift they had bought for just such a purpose. Of course they had dropped it and the glass framed prints enclosed had been shattered, scratching the priceless photos. She could have cried as she ran her fingertips along the Eisenstaedt portrait, one long scratch running across Monroe’s face. This was an original, processed by the man himself fifty years ago. It was irreplaceable.

Her phone beeped at her and she set the photo down.

- _What are you doing right now?_

She closed her eyes, debating whether or not to answer before she replied honestly. - _I am having the *worst* day._

A minute passed. - _Me too_. And then, - _Do you want to come by and make me feel better?_

She looked at the mess around her, the sheepish men trying to tiptoe by and not get blamed for the catastrophe they had caused.

- _God yes._

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth had heard about the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, although she had obviously never been there. It was impossible to live in the city and not hear the whispers about what went on on the grounds, but she had expected something much more like a prison than the picturesque building in front of her. She parked behind Frederick’s car, smoothing down her light brown skirt as she exited. At the front desk, she gave her name and was led upstairs by a blocky man in blue scrubs. Sitting primly in a chair outside Frederick’s office she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, listening to his secretary buzz in that there was a ‘Ms Branesdaw’ here to see him. Close enough, she supposed, and he _was_ expecting her.

Whatever the reply was must have been affirmative because the secretary motioned her in immediately. Opening the large heavy door she stepped into his office. He stood as she entered, pressing his fingertips down to the heavy wood of his desk. “Ms Bradshaw,” he said loudly, loudly enough to be heard in the office outside, “How good of you to come.” She didn’t correct him either, closing the door behind her and gliding into the office instead to seat herself in one of the leather wingback chairs that faced him. He sat down, leaning to the phone on his desk and pushing a button there. “Hold my calls Mrs Peterson, we are not to be disturbed.”

He rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers under his chin as he stared at her across the large expanse, a smirking grin spreading across his features

This was a different Frederick than she had seen at his home. A little cocky, arrogant even. It shouldn’t have been hot but damn, she felt herself growing wet between her thighs. She rubbed them together, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but his flicking gaze and deepening smile told her that he had.

“Take of your clothes,” he said, not lifting his eyes from hers.

Well this was new. She lifted her hands to the buttons of her shirt, shrugging it off slowly. Standing, she kicked off her shoes and slipped the skirt from her hips. With just her black bra and panties on she waited for him.

“Take it _all_ off.”

She reached behind her, thrusting her breasts forward a little more than was strictly necessary and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to her feet. Hooking her thumbs under the edge of her panties she pulled them slowly down her thighs, letting them fall as well and stepping out of them.

She was naked, standing in the middle of Frederick’s office while he sat prim behind his desk with that disinterested expression. Her thighs were so wet she felt sure he could see it. “Come here,” he motioned to her and she walked to him, noting the stiff tent in his pants. He might keep that impassive expression on his face but his body told a different story.

He guided her to sit on the edge of his desk, rolling his large chair so he was directly in front of her. Staring up at her, he lifted one of her feet to rest on the arm of the chair. He groaned at the sight of her before repeating the action with the other foot. She set her hand behind her on the desk leaning back and watching him.

“Do you just walk around all day, wet for anyone you come across?” he asked, smoothing his thumb up the inside of her thigh.

She raised an eyebrow, “No, but I did walk in here wet for you.”

His eyes flew to hers, nostrils flaring at the offhand comment. “Oh,” he breathed, leaning forward, “that’s a good girl.”

He pressed his lips against her at first, almost chastely, before he licked into her. She moaned, lifting one hand to run through his soft hair. His hands gripped her thighs as he pulled his chair closer to the desk, burying his face in her pussy and licking at her like she was candy.

She arched against him, the sharp stubble on his cheeks abrading the inside of her thighs. He curled his tongue around her clit, sucking on it gently before flicking over it in short, staccato stroked.  He listened to her breaths grow short and just as she was about to come he stopped, licking downward to thrust his tongue inside.

“Frederick!” she cried and he looked up at her.

“Shh, Mrs Peterson will hear you,” he admonished, whispering against the inside of her thigh.

She bit her lip, watching him close his eyes and begin licking at her again.

He did it again, repeating the cycle of bringing her close to orgasm, then scolding her when she cried out for him until she was squirming on the edge of the desk, her toes curling into the leather armrests of his chair. He stood then, unbuckling his belt and motioning for her to turn around. She did, bending and lowering herself to the cool wood. She heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper, then felt the smooth head of his dick sliding into her. She moaned low in her throat as he entered her, feeling his hands grip her hips. When he began to move faster she cried out, turning her face down into the wood as he slapped her ass lightly.

“You have to be quiet,” he scolded her, punctuating each word of the command with quick sharp thrusts. She whimpered with each, trying to keep from making noise, pressing her mouth into the back of her hand. He pulled out of her, lifting her hips and turning her until she was on her back and slid inside her again. He lifted her legs, setting her ankles against his shoulders. His hand slid up between her breasts, tracing up her neck before gently covering her mouth. Her eyes widened and he stared at her, moving slowly as he gradually increased the pressure of his hand. She moaned, hearing the muffled noise around his fingers. His other hand came up to her neck, holding her lightly. 

Oh god, she had never thought herself the type to be dominated or controlled. She liked equal and giving relationships but as his eyes stared into hers, as he held her by the throat and covered her mouth with his palm she re-evaluated her life. This was _amazing_.

She screamed when she came, feeling his fingers bite into her cheeks harshly as he held the sound down. Fucking her through her orgasm before finding his own. He rested like that for a moment, his hands still covering her, before he sat heavily back into his chair, pulling her down with him.

She snuggled into his lap drowsily, her knees over the arm of the chair as he stroked his hand down her arm. She was still naked, and he was still very much clothed - she was beginning to quite enjoy the feel of his expensive suits against her skin and she rubbed against him like a cat for a moment, smiling when his grip on her thigh tightened.

“I feel perhaps I owe you an apology,” his voice sounded far away.

She tilted her head up, “For what?”

He swallowed, not meeting her eyes, “I do not think of myself as a coarse man, and I used you rather roughly today.”

She slid one of her hands around his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss him. “You were perfect,” she reassured him, taking pleasure in the obvious relief that chased the tension out of his eyes. He kissed her for a long time, his tongue sliding against hers before finally pulling away. She heard a drawer open and close, a soft thud on the desk.

“I’ll leave and do my rounds, please take your time getting ready and don’t feel rushed to leave.”

She pulled away from him a bit, sitting up in his lap to stare in his eyes. If he had looked condescending or dismissive, any of those things that had been on his face when she had entered his office she thought she might slap him. Instead, he looked unsure, almost sad. 

She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him gently, then she stood letting him get up and adjust himself. She stayed by the corner of his desk as he left, turning to her at the door and running his gaze down her as though he was going to memorize every curve of her body. The door clicked softly behind him and she collapsed against the desk - staring at the envelope full of money he had left her.

She was sick of pretending, but god how on earth was she going to get out of this?


	7. Chapter 7

Elizabeth was avoiding him.

He had no real proof of that. Maybe she was exceptionally busy or had lost her phone or been kidnapped by the mafia. But the most likely reason she had not responded to any of his texts was that she was avoiding him.

Frederick drank, whiskey tonight, and stared into his dead fireplace. 

Had he been too rough with her at his office? He would have sworn that she had come for him - although he knew enough about the human brain to know that that did not necessarily mean that _she_ , the part of her that was greater than her body’s reaction to him, had enjoyed what was happening. When she had reassured him that he was perfect he had felt flush with the praise, mentally making notes for their next time together.

He had waited a few days. Not wanting to seem too eager, he tried to stretch their sessions apart.

- _Tonight?_

The text had gone unanswered and he told himself it was because he had sent it so late. She was probably otherwise engaged. And so the next day, he had re-written his follow-up four times, disgusted with himself but unable to stop, before deciding on what he thought was just the right tone of nonchalance.

- _The question still stands._

She hadn’t responded to that either and he let a week go by before he tried again.

- _I’ll double your fee._

But there was no reply and now he held onto the glowing square in his hand fiercely as he took another sip of the whiskey.

- _Did I do something wrong?_

He stared at the text - unsent - cursor blinking after the question mark. He should just forget her. Congratulate himself on a good time and move on. His thumb drifted over the little stylized arrow. He was being maudlin, and he _hated_ maudlin. He went to delete it, watching in mounting horror as the text popped up a level and into a small chat bubble.

‘sent’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Well, she hadn’t answered his other messages, there was no reason to think she might start now. He tossed the offending object to the other end of the couch, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling while he worked his jaw. He’d gained another two millimeters of movement, enough that he could just about reach his back teeth while flossing. That was something he had going for him at least.

The chirping noise startled him, and he glanced down the couch at the lit screen with the small envelope on it. It faded away as he stared at it. He was fairly certain he didn’t want to know what it said. It lit again, making the same chirping noise and he slide over, picking it up and unlocking it.

- _No._

_-Never._

As he held it in his hand another message came through. Chirp.

_-I’m sorry._

He stared down at the screen, confused. 

Chirp.

- _Do you still want me to come over?_

No he didn’t, he didn’t have time to deal with this nonsense. He typed the reply.

- _Yes._


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeth sat in her car outside of Frederick’s house for a long time. She had told herself it was better just cutting herself off cold. He’d appreciate it in the long run. And one day, if they happened to meet at another event, he might even be able to laugh about how far she had come up in the world since the days he had paid for her company.

There was no reason he had ever needed to know the truth.

She stared down at the phone in her hand, then over at the brown paper bag in her passenger seat. Grabbing it, she pushed the door to the car open, her heels crunching on the gravel driveway before she mounted the short three steps to his door.

He opened it immediately, immaculately dressed as always in a crisp striped suit and paisley tie. He must have been waiting for her.

She brushed past him, moving into the other room without a word and setting the paper bag on the high counter separating his kitchen from the living area. She heard him follow her, his cane making a sharp tapping noise against the hardwood floors. She reached up, pulling her her hair loose and shaking it down her back. It was the fist time she’d let her hair down for him - literally or figuratively. She was still facing away from him but from the sound he had stopped.

“Take off your tie,” she said, finally turning to him.

He stood frozen a few feet away from her. “I beg your pardon?”

She toed off her heels, shoving them with one foot away from her. “I said, take off your tie.”

He complied slowly, resting his cane against the low glass coffee table. She stepped to him, taking the silk from his hands and moving behind him.

When she lowered the cloth over his eyes he stiffened, his hand coming up to grab her wrist. “I don’t think…”

She pressed against his back, drawing her lips along his ear as she whispered, “Shh, let me. Please.”

He dropped his hand, not moving when she gently knotted the necktie around his head. She stepped back from him then, watching the pulse in his throat. She reached out shaking fingers to trail against it. Moving downwards, she traced the buttons of his shirt, slipping inside to gently scratch at his chest. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt and she wondered if it was because of the summer heat or her. She sighed, her breath fanning against his neck and she saw his jaw clench.

“Stay there,” she pulled away. The sound of the zipper on her dress was loud in the room. She slipped it off and tossed it towards the couch. Reaching out, she lifted one of his hands, pressing it to her breast as she undid the buttons of his shirt and pushed his jacket from his shoulders.

Her eyes flickered to the scar on his stomach, then to his cheek. Oh the things these people had done to him. She wanted to hold his face to her chest and pet him, tell him it would be okay, but he would probably have sooner been shot again than accept her sympathy. She was glad he couldn’t see her, sure that her emotions were clear as day on her face. His jaw was working rhythmically as she dragged her fingertipss along his skin, his hand massaging her breast as he lifted the other to her hip, learning her curves by touch alone. 

Turning in his arms, she leaned her back against him, dragging his hands around her and over her body. She guided one beneath her bra, the other to the waist of her panties, giving a sharp cry when he delved his fingers between her thighs without prompting.

Her head was resting against his shoulder, she could feel the hairs on his chest rubbing against her back as he pulled her against his body. His finger flicked at her clit while his other hand twisted against her nipple. She reached down, pressing his hand further between her thighs until he slipped a finger inside her, rubbing her with the heel of his palm.

She gasped, turning her head into his neck, feeling his hands clutch at her and his dick jump where he pressed against her ass. He reached one hand up, towards the tie and she stilled him, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him over to the couch - turning him until the back of his knees hit and he sat. She pulled her underwear off as quickly as she could, watching his face turn this way and that as he listened for her. She slid onto him, straddling his legs as she pressed her lips to his, twining her tongue into his mouth and swallowing his low groan. Her hair fell around them, brushing against his face. Her hands found the condom in the pocket of her dress, quickly unzipping his pants and rolling it onto him before settling herself above him. She pulled one of his hands to her breast again, guiding the other to her hip as she sank down on him slowly, not stopping until he was sheathed completely inside her.

She slowly lifted herself, feeling his fingers rolling on her nipple and her toes curled as she sank back to him. She continued her unhurried pace, watching her body take him over and over again. And then, when she felt ready, she began to move faster, rocking against him with long plunging strokes.

He moaned. His face was intent as he listened to her low panting gasps and when she began to make high keening noises he grabbed her hips, stilling her movements against him. “I want to watch you come,” he choked out.

She pulled the tie from his eyes, watching him blink for a moment before he got his bearing and began to thrust sharply against her. His arms wrapped around her as he sat up straighter, pulling their bodies flush with each other as he tangled one hand into her hair. She stared into his eyes as she came, her mouth working soundlessly and when he followed soon after he pressed his forehead to hers.

They stayed that way, bodies entwined and foreheads touching, for a long time - neither speaking. Finally, she lifted herself off of him, bending to pick up her dress as she moved off the couch. When she turned back he hadn’t moved, his eyes fixed on her ass. She found her bra and clipped it on as he continued to watch her, not saying anything. She slipped into the soft grey dress, presenting her back to him to pull up the zipper.

“You’re not staying?” he asked finally, settling back into the cushions.

She shook her head, finding her panties under the edge of the couch and slipping them on. He looked like he was going to say something else, probably about not getting his money’s worth, but seemed to think better of it. She slipped into her heels and raked her fingers through her hair. There, she looked and felt like herself again. Professional, collected.

He looked like a drunken Dionysus, his legs spread on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned and his dick lying against his stomach. He was still watching her through lowered brows when she turned to leave, picking her keys up from the end of the counter.

“You forgot your bag,” he called after her, gesturing to the paper sack she’d left.

She stopped in the archway, “No, I didn’t. It’s for you.”

“You brought me a gift?”

She turned around then, a half-smile without humor on her lips, “Something like that.” Smoothing a hand down the side of her dress she didn’t bother to look at him as she added, “You might have… questions? I suggest you call Edward.” She turned to leave again, pausing after a step. She took a long deep breath, her back to him, before saying, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean for… any of this…” she trailed off, deciding it wasn’t worth it.

And she left.


	9. Chapter 9

Frederick listened to his front door click closed, and then the soft crunch of gravel in his driveway as she left his home. He felt different. In the past, she had left him with her scent on his sheets or his clothes, satisfied and smiling. A little disappointed in life but nothing he couldn’t live with. Today he felt… used? That wasn’t the right word, but he held onto it for a long moment as he rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

_Taken_. That was the word he had been looking for. In the past, it had always been about him, his needs and his pleasure. Today had been about her, she had kissed him and stroked him and guided him for her own reasons. He didn’t mind - in fact, under other circumstances he might have insisted on it - but he did wonder at the change.

And what about her parting words? She hadn’t meant to what? He slowly tucked himself into his pants and unsteadily rose to his feet. He left his shirt unbuttoned as he walked to the counter. The bag sat there, innocuous as hell. He hesitantly reached for it, grasping it by the bottom and tipping the contents onto the marble.

Three neat bundles of cash slid out.

He stared at them, at the little post-its with dates on them - crisp and clear handwriting he’d never seen before but knew instantly was hers - and used the tips of his fingers to line them up in order. He recognized the date on the first one - the night of the gala. The most recent was the Tuesday two weeks prior, when he had called her to his office. He supposed the other matched to the night they had spent together here at his house. He slowly walked into the foyer, the stack of money was still sitting there untouched, and brought it back with him - lining it up with the others.

Nine thousand, even - two thousand a night plus tips. He stood there for a long time staring at the rows of bills before retrieving the mobile phone from his coat and dialing Edward’s number - heedless of the hour.

“Frederick! It’s been an age I tell you, an _age._ I thought maybe you had died again! How have you been?”

“Good good,” Frederick gently pushed one of the stacks with his fingertips, aligning it more closely with the others, “Listen Ned, I have a question about that woman you set me up with.”

“Elizabeth? Isn’t she a doll? I just _knew_ you two would get on. I hope you don’t mind my little joke, but I know there was no way you _really_ wanted to be seen with a call-girl, certainly not in public where she was _bound_ to be recognized.”

Frederick blinked, he hadn’t even considered that - a true escort was likely to have other high-end clients, clients who would have been at the gala as well.

Edward continued, oblivious to the man on the other end of the phone, “I hope it wasn’t _too_ awkward, I mean - you asked for her number so I figured you two must have rubbed along well enough.”

_You have no idea_ , Frederick thought.

“I’ll give you the money back of course, I’ve been holding onto it for an _age_. I’m a little surprised it’s taken you this long to call.”

“You can keep it,” Frederick cut him off, “consider it a, uh, finder’s fee. Between friends.”

Ned laughed uproariously at that, “A finder’s fee, that’s rich!” He continued laughing until Frederick considered just hanging up on the man. “Will I see you two at the Hospital Gala next week?”

Tapping his fingers against the piles of money on his kitchen counter Frederick slowly drawled, “I certainly hope so.”


	10. Chapter 10

The beep of her phone made her jump and Elizabeth carefully set down the newly restored Eisenstaedt. The process had been time-consuming, and expensive. The new exhibit she was curating already well over budget and behind schedule and she had yet to even open. Reaching for her phone, she noted that it was a new text a moment before she saw who it was from. She froze.

She hadn’t heard from him in a week. She was certain he had fit the pieces together soon after she left but had hoped that maybe he would call her. That it didn’t matter to him. That maybe he liked her a little as a person, not just a warm body.

After the first couple of days she had given up on that line of thought and simply settled for hoping that Frederick wasn’t _too_ angry. 

The message indicator blinked at her, taunting. Steeling herself she opened it, only to find no text. It was a photo of an invitation, inviting Elizabeth Bradshaw to the 41st Annual Fundraising Gala for the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Black Tie Only. She stared at it, the date on it was tomorrow.

Was this his way of saying that he wanted to see her? Or his way of saying he thought she was insane? She laughed, if it was in fact the latter then she had to give him credit for a solid sense of humor. She tapped at the side of the phone, waiting to see if any other messages were forthcoming. Just the one.

She set the phone down, picking up the photo again. Tomorrow was a long way off and she didn’t need to decide what to do for several hours yet.

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth stood on the steps outside and told herself she still hadn’t made up her mind. Despite the diamonds on her ears and wrist she continued to tell herself that she was just here for the moment, just to see if she was even on the guest list.

She was.

She stepped inside, the skirt of her dress brushing against the ornate columns she passed through. She’d worn the same navy blue gown she had met him in, not because she didn’t have any other but because it seemed appropriate. Once inside, she scanned the crowded hall her eyes rising to the soaring staircase that dominated the far wall. There he was, near the top and a little to the side. Looking almost indescribably handsome in his black tuxedo. She traced her eyes over him, his hand gripping the head of his cane, his long legs and lean hips. His hair was immaculate, not a strand out of place, and she sighed as she imagined how it would feel under her fingers. 

He was looking down at her, catching her eye and she found herself blushing at being caught staring. She turned away quickly, lifting a glass of champagne and downing it in one gulp. She ignored the disapproving eye of the woman next to her and replaced it and took another. This one she held - tightly.

She heard her name, turning to see Edward pushing his bulk through the crowd to her. “Elizabeth my darling, Frederick told me you would be here but I began to despair, positively _despair_ , that you were going to show at all.”

She smiled at him. She had always rather liked Ned, all things considered, and though she still felt he could have been just a _little_ upfront up his little joke on her she had accepted his apology and the assertions that it was not done in poor spirit.

He finally made it to her, catching her up in a hug against him. Setting her down he laughed as she smoothed her hands over her dress and checked her hair. “You look lovely my dear, but where has Frederick gotten off to eh?”

Before she could tell him she wasn’t at the gala with Frederick he had whisked her off into the crowds, pausing occasionally to introduce her to his oldest and dearest friends as another of his oldest and dearest friends.

“Minnie my darling, allow me to introduce you to Ms Bradshaw, she’s new to Baltimore you know!”

Elizabeth took the older woman’s hand, correcting him for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, “It’s Dr Bradshaw actually.” 

“Dr Bradshaw?” the voice behind her sounded like velvet over steel. She knew who it was immediately.

She turned, letting go of Ned’s arm and leaving him to talk to ‘dear Minnie’. Frederick was regarding her with the arrogant look she remembered from his office. Her lip twitched as she held her hand out to him. “Dr Elizabeth Bradshaw, Baltimore Museum of Fine Arts, I don’t believe that _we’ve_ ” and she put special emphasis there “met.”

His cocky smile turned slightly warmer as he slid his hand into hers. “Dr Frederick Chilton, Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.”

“Oh?” she said, sipping on her champagne, “Is this your gala then?”

“Yes, in fact, it is.”

Edward turned on them then, drawing them together into his arms and chattering about how he had had just _known_ they would be perfect for each other and didn’t they just make the loveliest couple. Elizabeth tried not to laugh as she watched Frederick struggle to keep his pleasant social facade in place. She stepped to his side, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow, “Yes Ned, you really are the most wonderful but we _do_ need to be off now.”

It took them another five minutes to completely extricate themselves from Edward’s influence but a short time later they found their way into a small, private side room, the door clicking closed softly behind them. Elizabeth pulled away from him, stepping around a high backed leather couch before turning to face him. One raised eyebrow showed he’d noticed quite clearly that she had put a large, heavy piece of furniture between the two of them.

“So….” she started, not meeting his eyes.

“So.”


	11. Chapter 11

Frederick regarded Elizabeth across the small room. She seemed nervous, alternating between looking at him and looking anywhere but at him.

He had wanted to be angry with her. Had told himself he was inviting her tonight so that he could give her the cut direct, let her know that she was beneath his consideration. It was going to be the highlight of the night for him. But when he had looked down through the crowds and found her staring up at him, he had seen something in her face that had stopped him. Guilt for one - which he had expected - and unless he was very much mistaken, yearning. This beautiful woman in the blue evening gown was standing in the middle of his gala and _yearning_ for him. It was a heady feeling, not one he had much experience with. Oh, a part of him was still one hundred percent on board with his punishment idea -  he was still quite angry at her deception deep down - but another part was taking over. And that part was very tired and just wanted answers.

“So,” he said again, “Elizabeth _is_ your real name.”

She blushed, “I didn’t have any reason to lie about it.” A pause, “Then.”

“Ah, _then_. What a magical time that was.” Her look told him that she didn’t appreciate the comment. “And at what point between ‘then’ and ‘now’ did you decide to play the part of a prostitute?”

She lifted one arching eyebrow at him, “When you told me I was one.”

Touché, that was true he supposed. “Then why continue the charade? Surely you don’t need to pretend to be a call-girl to get a date.”

Eyes on his she raised her chin defiantly, “Apparently, if it was to get a date with you - I did.”

His laughter was without humor. “Do you mean to tell me you were so overcome with lust for my beautiful body,” he gestured with his cane, “that you willingly debased yourself, sold yourself, just for the chance to sleep with me? Forgive me, but I find that difficult to believe.” 

“Debased myself,” she seemed to roll the words around in her mouth. “Is that what I did? I remember it differently.” He opened his mouth to retort but she cut him off. “I know that you’re angry with me and you have every right to be. I was fairly angry with you for a while. It’s not terribly flattering to have someone think that way about you - even under the circumstances. But don’t try to make our time together into something it wasn’t. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute and if I had the chance to do it again I would.”

Her gaze was steady on his and he swallowed. This conversation was not going how he thought it would. “You’d lie to me.”

“I’d have you any way I could,” she corrected, shrugging after a moment. “I probably should feel bad about that but I can’t seem to make myself.”

He twisted his hands on the top of his cane, “And if, hypothetically, the feeling was mutual?”

Her eyes flew to his, a question written across her face. “Hypothetically? I might tell someone that it’s quite nice over here. On the dark side. Feeling _bad_.” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile and he felt himself smiling back. The tension seemed to ease out of her then and he fought the urge to cross to her.

“Do you think, under these purely hypothetical circumstances, we might…” she trailed off, her eyes searching his, “pick up where we left off?”

He choked on air, “I must confess I’m at a loss as to just what that would look like.”

He saw a moment of consideration on her face, a calculating look as her eyes darted from him to the closed door and back. “I mean, I did do something… naughty.”

His confusion must have been evident because she smiled slightly when he replied, “Did you now?”

She nodded, coming around the couch towards him, “I think, maybe I need to be… punished?” She raised one eyebrow at him and he felt himself go instantly rock hard. There was no possibility she was offering what he thought she was offering. She was wearing diamonds for fuck’s sake. Women in diamonds did not tell him they needed to be punished. 

Hell, women in anything didn’t tell him that - except in his fantasies.

“Do you now?” He was proud of how steady his voice was, not a hint of his nervous eagerness showing. If this was what picking up where they left off looked like he was absolutely onboard with it. She nodded, sliding her gaze down and away from his in a way that he supposed was meant to look contrite but made her look coy instead.

The tension in the room seemed to suddenly pulse with its own life and he tightened his grip on the head of his cane. Did he dare? “Lean over the back of the sofa,” he said before he could really think about what he was doing.

She moved without question, turning from him and bending forward slightly. Ah yes, the missing back of her dress that he remembered so fondly, and the curve of her ass accentuated as she leaned forward. “Lift up your skirt,” he watched in amazement as she did as she was told, slowly baring her long legs to him until she was clutching the material at her thighs. He reached a hand out then, guiding her wrists to the small of her back and pressing the fabric of her dress between her fingers. He pressed on her shoulders, settling her against the sofa. “Are you comfortable?” It seemed like such an inane question but her gasped “ _yes_ ” made him smile.

He stared at the line of her lace thong, reaching out a hand to trace along it. She sighed, pressing back into his touch. He gently tapped the palm of his hand against her, watching her face as he did so. Her eyes fluttered closed and he hit again, a little harder. “Yes,” she moaned and he hit her harder still, watching her skin move beneath his hand.

Stepping toward her side he leaned his cane against the couch, gathering the hands at the small of her back into one of his large ones, holding her captive as he began to slap his hand against her in a steady rhythm, alternating his blows with gripping at her flesh, the loud sounds echoing in the room. His eyes flickered between her face and her ass, unsure of which he enjoyed watching more. She was biting her lip, crying out occasionally - words like ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘harder’ and he gladly complied. Her ass cheeks were becoming red under his ministrations and when he noticed areas deepening into purple he stopped. Staring down at her and panting hard.

He stared at the bruises forming on her pale skin. Her fingers were gripping his and when he went to pull his hand away - an apology springing to his lips - she held him, her eyes catching his over her shoulder. “Do it,” she urged him and instead of moving away he stepped behind her fully, undoing his pressed tuxedo pants and pulling his dick free. He adjusted his grip on her, pressing against her back to bend her over even further as he rolled a condom on. He pulled her thong to the side and pushed inside her absolutely dripping pussy - any doubt about how much she was enjoying this vanishing. She cried out, pulling away from him sharply and he froze, wondering again if he had pushed her too far, too fast. But her fingers never lost their grip on his hand and when he began to slowly drive against her each of his movements were met with startled cries from her that she seemed unable to control. 

He gripped her wrists tightly in one hand, the other startlingly pale against the red skin of her ass cheek as he dug his fingers into her. He groaned her name as he came, reaching around her to rub her to completion as well. She cried his name like it was a plea, a benediction -  and he loved every syllable of it.

He held her for a while, her delicate wrists twitching against his palm before pulling away. Carefully righting his tuxedo. He noticed with amusement that once she let go of her skirt she looked exactly as composed and graceful as she had when she walked in - no one would know what they had done. Oh, there were a few wrinkles at the bottom of the material but he doubted anyone would notice.

“That was…” he started and stopped, studying her face. Her eyes were closed and she wore the most satisfied smile he thought he had ever seen.

“Wonderful.” She finished for him before opening her eyes. “And you asked me why I kept pretending…” she chided softly.

He couldn’t help but laugh and she stepped to him, twining her arms around his neck and kissing the sound from his lips. “I have to get back to the party,” he murmured when she broke away. 

“Of course,” she patted at the front of his tuxedo, tucking and pulling until she seemed satisfied with how he looked. “You know,” she said, “eventually someone is going to ask us how we met.”

He grinned as he guided her back into the hallway with an arm around her hips, “We’ll say we met two months ago through a mutual friend. Edward of course.” When she playfully swatted at his shoulder he pinched her bottom, taking great pleasure in the startled gasp that burst from her lips.

Oh yes, she was worth every penny.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader, this is the end of Elizabeth and Frederick’s story - for now anyway. I set out to write something very specific and I feel that arc has come to a satisfying end. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Continued (sort of) in a fluffy one-shot 'Dove Grey Bows'

**Author's Note:**

> More stories by brandyllyn:  
> 'Debt Makes Promises' - Owing a favor to a known drug kingpin was hard enough, but when that person is Nevada Ramirez all bets are off. (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Further on the Edge' - Nevada meets a woman who gives him a run for his money. But she's not quite what she presents herself to him... (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Let Live' - If he was being honest with himself, this woman scared the shit out of him (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Half Empty' - Sometimes your body is the only thing you have left to negotiate with. (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Good Man Feelin' Bad' - Rafael Barba meets an interesting woman at a gala. (Law & Order: SVU)  
> 'Time's Fool' - Chilton is confronted with a woman from his past, but will their unfinished business ruin him or save him? (Hannibal)


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